


prone to chaos

by thesilverwitch



Category: Marvel
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Camping, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Natasha Romanoff Has Feelings, Super Happy and Corny, Tony Stark has feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-21
Updated: 2013-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-05 11:06:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1093160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesilverwitch/pseuds/thesilverwitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Parks and Recreation AU where the gang goes on a camping trip to brainstorm ideas for their next project since Reed Richards is a total dick and has ruined their current plans (Tony could pretend he’s surprised, but even he is not that good of an actor).</p><p>Alternatively, Tony has a crush, Natasha thinks there are too many men in their department and all Bruce wants is to commit a felony and do some yoga. Also nobody’s sure what Coulson is doing there, but nobody is asking either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	prone to chaos

**Author's Note:**

> I said in the summary that this is a Parks & Recreation AU, but the correct wording would be it's inspired and loosely based on the show. I took the camping idea from one of the eps, but other than that the only thing I really took from the show was one joke (I just couldn't help myself, kudos to whoever finds it). What this all means is that **you don't need to have seen Parks & Recreation to read this fic**. Everything should be pretty self-explanatory, and if it's not, feel free to ask me about it!
> 
> As for thank you notes, I just want to thank [Rachel](http://ohmyloki.tumblr.com), [Charmaine](http://tin-can.tumblr.com) and [Defne](http://sirdef.tumblr.com) for being wonderfully supportive, and [Jenna](http://vibraniumstark.tumblr.com/) for giving the fic a quick look when I asked her to. 
> 
> With all this said, all mistakes are mine and mine alone. Any critiques, comments, reviews or basic spell-checks are appreciated. Enjoy :)

“Alright everyone,” Steve says in his best I’m-in-charge-voice. Tony dutifully tries to refrain from laughing. “We’re meeting here tomorrow at six forty-five to go camping. We all leave together, so don’t be late.”

“It shall be a mighty adventure,” Thor says. He has his eyes closed, and he can’t help nodding when he finishes speaking, as if he’s just said something incredibly deep and thoughtful. Tony’s eyes roll on automatic.

“Six forty-five? Steve,” Clint whines, leaning back on his chair like a cat stretching his muscles. As people usually do when Clint starts whining about something, Steve ignores him.

“When you say camping, do you mean outdoors camping or…?” Bruce tentatively asks, making Steve frown at him.

“What other kind of camping is there?” Steve asks.

Bruce scratches his shaggy beard, thinking for a second before he replies, “The kind where everyone stays in their own homes, alone, and goes to sleep on their own beds sounds pretty nice.”

“That’s not what camping is,” Natasha says, eyeing Bruce like he’s recently lost a couple of IQ points. He might have, Tony thinks, all those fruity drinks and yoga can’t be good for him.

Steve eyes Bruce as well, but only says, “Six forty-five. Be here everyone.”

“Even Fury?” Clint stage-whispers, pointing in the direction of Fury’s office. As always, Fury has refrained from joining their meetings, claiming he loses five minutes of his lifetime every time he does any sort of government work. Since nobody in their department has any desire to lose any limbs, they’ll have politely refrained from pointing out that it’s pretty hard not to do any government work when you’re a government worker.

“I…” Steve falters, and Tony can’t help grinning like a chesire cat, masking his face into a solemn one when Steve shoots him an annoyed glare. “I’ll go talk to him now.”

“Good luck!” Tony calls, although he doubts Steve needs it. Of all the people in their little Parks and Recreation department, Steve is the only one who Fury actually likes. Him and Coulson, but Coulson doesn’t work with them—well, Tony’s pretty sure he doesn’t, he’s never been quite certain what the guy does—so he doesn’t count.

Still, because it’s Steve, and because Tony cares for Steve far more than he’s willing to admit to himself, much less out loud, he pays close attention to the conversation that goes on inside Fury’s office while everyone else leaves for the day.

There’s some minimal shouting, but Fury doesn’t know how to speak without shouting so that’s nothing to worry about, some repetitions of the words “no”, “hell no” and “are you fucking crazy?”, as well as the sound of breaking glass, which is what lifts all of Tony’s red flags. Fury will tell just about anyone to fuck off in that exact wording, but he’s never quick to jump to physical assault.

Steve could probably take him with one arm behind his back if it came to be—all those muscles aren’t for show only—but Fury is sneaky, and Tony wouldn’t put it past him to be some kind of secret ninja with secret ninja skills.

Tony’s trying to build a makeshift gun with the few office supplies he’s allowed to own after the Indoors Ice Rink Fiasco of 2010, ready to go in and save Steve, even if it means sacrificing himself in the process, when Steve comes out of Fury’s office with a huge—absolutely gorgeous and heart-stopping—grin on his face.

“He said yes!” Steve exclaims. Both of Tony’s eyebrows go up of their own accord.

“Fury said yes to a weekend camping trip with everyone from this office?” Tony leans to his side so he can sneak a glance inside Fury’s office, where Fury seems to be packing his things so he can leave. And by that Tony means he’s putting a pen in his pocket and getting his jacket. “Are you sure it’s him and not some crazy doppelganger?”

“Tony,” Steve says, sounding exasperated and yet still fond, like he’s used to all of Tony’s antics by now. It doesn’t take long for Tony to realise he probably is. They’ve worked together for a long time now; long enough for Tony to go and develop a crush bigger than the moon for Steve, who is the most committed, hard-working, brilliant person Tony has ever known and so out of Tony’s league that it’s not even funny.

“Maybe it has something to do with his ninja plan,” Tony murmurs, pushing away his messy thoughts. They always lead him in embarrassing directions, and it doesn’t do him any good to have them, especially not when Steve is right there in front of him, still smiling, still looking fond.

“Fury is not a ninja,” Steve says with a smile. Tony finds that he has to look away and then his mouth starts working, all his thoughts getting away from him as he rambles.

“That’s what he wants you think, just you wait and see, one day we’ll all come to work to find he’s taken over the city government and is planning to take over the country. I bet he already has everything planned and he’s just waiting for the right moment to strike. Do you think he’ll want us by his side? Well, you, obviously, he’ll want, but what about the rest of us? Clint will be the first one to go, no doubt about that, but—“

A loud cough interrupts Tony’s too-well thought speech, and Tony turns around in mortified horror to find not only Fury, but also Coulson, standing behind him.

“Good evening, gentlemen. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Fury says, glaring at Tony with his one good eye. Steve mumbles a small ‘good night’, looking terribly embarrassed on Tony’s behalf—a common occurrence—while Coulson smirks at Tony. Tony flashes them his sharpest smile and pretends he wasn’t talking about Fury being a ninja two seconds ago as he wishes them a good evening.

As soon as they’re gone, he turns to Steve and says, “Well, count me dead as well. I hope you make it to the top, Steve. You deserve to be second ruler of the world.”

“Thank you, Tony,” Steve says with a laugh. He goes to his office to get his jacket, giving Tony enough time to dismantle his makeshift gun before he joins him at the door. As they’re leaving, Steve grabs Tony’s shoulder, serious voice back on, and asks, “have you given any thought to what our next should be?”

“A little,” Tony says, slowly, trying to gauge Steve’s reaction, because he hates disappointing Steve, even when he’s not done anything wrong yet, “but that’s what we’re going on this camping trip for, right? Don’t think I haven’t seen your pamphlets on the art of brainstorming, Rogers.”

Steve laughs again, but this time it’s a little more lifeless, a hint too tired, “I know, I’m just worried we’re not going to come up with anything,” Steve says, not sounding like himself at all and making Tony wince.

“Steve, it’s brainstorming camping trip led by you. Of course we’re going to come with something!” Tony says, both hands around Steve’s shoulders as he shakes him up a little, and it’s a lie, he’s not so sure himself they’re going to manage this, not with their practically non-existent budget, but that’s for him to worry about, not Steve.

Steve is like an ocean of positive energy. He always has a plan, a vision, a glint of determination in his eyes. Steve doesn’t let people like Reed Richards—as if it was possible to hate the guy more—put a damper on their plans of building a park in the empty lot near Bruce’s house, even though that’s exactly what Reed is doing right now, and what they seem to be incapable of stopping. Since Steve has priority over the lot, but Reed has the promise of money after he sells the lot to a fast food place, neither of their plans are going forward until the city hall decides on what to do.

What this all means is that the Parks and Recreation department must do something amazing in the next two months so that the city hall falls in love with them and gives them the empty lot, or they’re fucked.

It’s all much easier said than done.

“You’re right,” Steve says, back with the smile, which is this time accompanied by a melting hug. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Tony replies, and hopes his blush is not too obvious, that his stares don’t go on for too long, and that he’ll get to go home soon where he’ll watch bad TV until he falls asleep and pointedly not think about Steve Freaking Rogers.

Waking up the next day around the same time as the sun comes up is an absolute pain in the ass, and it’s only the thought of not wanting to disappoint Steve that drags Tony out of bed. He would feel ashamed of this if he didn’t know that it’s the same for everyone else in their little department. Tony might be the one with the crush, but nobody wants to disappoint Steve, not even the people who dislike Steve want to disappoint him. Tony supposes it’s because of the puppy eyes. Guy might be 6’0’’ foot tall, but he’s got eyes as blue as the ocean and he’s not afraid to turn the act up when he wants to make sure you feel properly Sad and Upset About Your Poor Decisions That Have Led You To Disappoint Steve Rogers.

Tony drags his things to his car, glad that he’d pack the night before because in no way in hell would he have found the energy to do it at such an ungodly hour in the morning. He still arrives ten minutes late, but at least he’s not Clint, who shows up fifteen minutes late with Starbucks like the living cliché he is.

“Really? Starbucks?” Tony asks, rolling his eyes.

“And here I was thinking I could offer you this second cup I bought,” Clint says, waving a warm cup of coffee produced out of thin air in front of Tony’s face.

Tony tries to grab it, but he’s too slow, and before he knows it the cup is in Natasha’s hands. They both smirk at him—they’ve been hanging out too much with Coulson—and Tony abandons him to go sit morosely by Bruce’s side while Steve makes sure they have everything they need. Bruce has somehow fallen asleep while sitting up, brave little warrior that he is, and Tony tries to follow his path, but is stomped by Steve’s sunny voice telling them they’re ready to leave.

What does it say about Tony that he doesn’t mind having a nap stolen from him as long as it’s Steve doing so?

Probably that his crush has grown past crush territory, but Tony is far too smart to look into it.

They get to the camping spot in little under an hour, and then it’s the matter of setting up the tents. This goes about as well as one could expect.

Bruce grows frustrated and destroys his tent in a fit of rage in less than ten minutes, sending bits of metal and pieces of fabric flying everywhere as he stomps the ground (“This thing is so stupid, oh my god, what are these instructions even supposed to mean?” Bruce asks, waving the piece of paper around like it’s a wet paper towel, already full of despair. He goes on a rampage a few seconds after that. “I can’t do this. I can’t fucking do this.”).

Clint tries to set his on top of the tree and falls, nearly breaking his neck (“This way I’ll be closer to nature,” Clint shouts from the top of the tree.

“Why the hell would you want to do that?” Tony shouts back.

“Because!” Clint replies, which is not a real reply at all, before he slips from his branch and falls, his death stopped by the numerous branches he hits along the way.)

Thor reveals himself to be completely and thoroughly inadequate at setting up a tent, and spends most of his time glaring at the instructions as if they’d personally offended him (“This is truly confusing, I’ve followed the instructions minutely and yet,” Thor looks up to his tent, which is currently sprawled on the ground like a dead jellyfish, “my creation looks nothing like the one in the booklet.”).

Natasha sets hers up perfectly in five minutes and spends the rest of the time laughing at them and not helping. (“Easy,” she comments after she’s done, making everyone else glare at her.)

Fury sets his tent as far away from them as possible (“I don’t want to have to stare at you fucks for the entire weekend,”), while Coulson—who came for reasons unknown to Tony since he doesn’t work with them—almost breaks his tent while setting it up, demonstrating to the whole world that deep inside, he’s as much of a city born loser as Tony always knew he was (“This is much harder than I thought it’d be,” he murmurs to himself as he works.)

Tony would laugh at him if it weren’t for the fact that he’s as much of a city born loser as Coulson, possibly even a little bit more, and requires Steve’s help to set his tent. (“My instructions are in Chinese, Steve. I can’t read Chinese. I can read English, Italian, Spanish and a little bit of French, but I can’t fucking read Chinese. What the hell.”

“Calm down, Tony,” Steve says with an easy laugh, “I’ll help you.”

Tony doesn’t even feel embarrassed. It’s this or sleeping in the car, and he sure as hell isn’t putting his back through that. He’s not twenty anymore.)

In the end it takes them about three hours to set up all the tents—Bruce’s went in the garbage and he’s been forced to share with Clint, who everyone knows snores in his sleep—and by the time they’re done they’re all tired, grumpy and without any desire whatsoever to do any work, which is why when Steve asks if they’re ready to start brainstorming, everyone stares at him and groans. Including the people who set up their tents in a couple of minutes and aren’t tired at all, because they’re all lazy assholes.

“Guys, come on, we just got here!” Steve says and ah yes, there they are. The infamous puppy eyes. Tony looks away immediately. You can’t get affected if you’re not looking, even if it breaks your heart a little to do so. The others quickly follow his lead, but Steve isn’t dumb. He starts walking around and making sure everyone gets at least one good look at his puppy eyes.

Tony sighs, as loudly as he can, and is the the first one to break and say, “Alright, let’s do this.”

The smile Steve gives him is worth it, it always is.

They gather around the circle of stones for the fire. Steve gets a couple of notebooks from his tent and passes them around so that everyone has something to write on.

“Okay everyone, let’s start,” Steve says, “we need to do something to impress the city hall so that they give the empty lot to us and not to Reed. Ideally, this wouldn’t stretch our budget to much, would generate revenue and make everyone happy. Any ideas?”

Clint gets up and takes a couple of sheets from his pockets, handing one to everyone. “Archery range,” he says and then smiles at everyone as if he’s God’s gift to the Earth.

The sheets Clint handed out have ‘ARCHERY RANGE’ in bright, bold letters on top of a picture of the nominated archery range on the cover. Tony watches Steve turns the paper over, as he searches for more information. Not surprisingly, there is none.

“Archery range?” Steve finally asks after he’s given the paper another look.

“Archery range,” Clint replies and then falls silent, still smiling like the sun is coming out of his ass.

“And where exactly would we build this archery range?” Steve asks, which is not at all relevant in Tony’s opinion since they’re a parks and recreation department with barely enough money to wipe their own asses, much less build the archery range in Clint’s picture.

“Well, there’s the empty lot next to Bruce’s house…”

“Clint!” Steve exclaims, “That’s for the park. It’s why we’re doing this project in the first place.”

“Well I don’t know,” Clint says with a glare that is totally unjustified and makes Tony want to punch him. Not that he needs to defend Steve’s honor, obviously. Clint simply has a very punchable face. “I’m just throwing out the idea.”

Steve sighs, but doesn’t say anything else, leaving Tony to say, “We can’t afford it anyway. Next.”

“A giant bouncy castle for the children!” Thor shouts, making everyone jump in their seats.

Tony turns to Steve to see his reaction, because it’s always good to follow Steve in this kind of meeting. If it were up to Tony—and Clint, because they might sort of hate each other, but they’re also brothers in arms—they would put drugs in Reed’s office and call the cops to get him fired. Sure, it was a bit drastic, but it would get the job done.

“It could work, but I was hoping we’d do something that appealed to wider demographics,” Steve says after a couple of seconds of thinking, leaving room for somebody else to present their idea.

“Luxury dog park,” Coulson says.

He doesn’t add anything else until Tony, full of suspicion, asks, “Would you care to elaborate on that?”

“Poodles only. No pooping.”

“Okaaay, I think we’re going to pass on that,” Tony says, nodding to his notebook and not even bothering to write Coulson’s idea down. And people wonder why he thinks the guy might be an alien. “Natasha?”

“We could buy a flamethrower,” she says in perfect nonchalance.

“And what would we do with a flamethrower?” Tony asks, eyeing her warily. If he scootches in his seat to put more space between them, nobody comments.

Natasha shrugs. “Burn stuff.”

Everyone stops to think that through and then follows Tony’s lead by scootching further back in their seats. The only one who stays right where he is is Coulson, and okay, first thing Tony does when he gets back to civilization is figure out what the guy actually does and if he is who he says he is because Natasha is scary, and people who are not scared of her are clearly not human.

After a while, Bruce says, “What if we sold raffle tickets? That way we’d get the money to beat Reed’s offer for the lot and this whole thing wouldn’t be an issue.”

“And what would the prize be?” Steve asks.

“Reed’s car. One of us can swipe the keys while he’s not looking,” Bruce replies, looking as calm and zen as always he does even though he’s just proposed they steal and then sell a car. Tony has never been more proud. He always knew Bruce had it in to create chaos. From the corner of his eye he sees Clint wipe away a fake tear—show-off—and Natasha smirk appreciatively.

Steve, expectedly, doesn’t feel the same. He racks his hands through his hair, pushing his head down for a second before he looks up and asks, “Does anyone have a real, usable proposal?” not as patient as he was a couple of minutes before.

Nobody says anything, some of them looking away in guilt. Tony tries to wrack his brain for any usable ideas, but it’s no good. There’s little he couldn’t build for them as long as he had the tools he needed, but when it comes to real projects for their department, Steve is always the man with the plan.

And now, the one time they needed to do something big and amazing, Steve didn’t have any ideas, and they didn’t have the means to do any of the ideas they had so far come up with.

They’re screwed, they’re so terribly screwed. Sure, they can always steal Reed’s car, but they need a better plan than that and Tony’s got nothing.

“Let’s take a break,” Steve says and walks off before any of them can say anything.

If guilt was a liquid, Tony would be drowning in it right now.

 

\- - - - -

If you ask Natasha what she thinks of her job at the Parks and Recreation department she will look at you in the eye in complete silence until you are so uncomfortable you feel the need to leave.

If, however, you somehow find a way to force her into telling you what she thinks of her job, she’ll probably say something along the lines of, “I’m not stuck doing the same thing every day, which is a big plus, and the people are decent, even if too prone to chaos, as if anyone could forget the Indoors Ice Rink Fiasco of 2010. Overall, it’s alright.”

At the moment, Natasha is reevaluating her choices.

After Steve left, they’d all eaten lunch in silence and sat around until Fury told them all he was going fishing in a final, I-am-up-for-no-bullshit voice. Coulson decided to follow suit, claiming there wasn’t much else they could do, and it didn’t take too long for Clint to make the same decision.

Bruce went off somewhere on his own to do yoga, an unhealthy habit in Natasha’s opinion, and Thor trailed after him, wanting to try yoga for the first time and possibly give Bruce a brain aneurysm. Steve beat himself up trying to come up with something they could do and Tony beat himself up because Steve was beating himself up.

This left Natasha in a complicated position. She could either go with the men and go fishing, or she could go with the other men and act like a pathetic mushroom. None of her options were good, and not for the first time Natasha considered getting someone—Tony and Clint—fired so they could hire more women and, more importantly, people who actually did their jobs.

She went with fishing in the end.

Fury is standing as far away from them as possible so that they don’t scare off the fish with all the noise they make. Coulson is in between Fury and Natasha, always pragmatic, and Clint is standing right next to her and has somehow missed the “No Talking” memo that came with every fishing pole. Brilliant.

“Clint, you’re going to scare away all the fish if you don’t shut up,” she says.

Clint wrinkles his nose as he looks at the water, “Do fish even have ears? And how can they hear me underwater? Can you hear me underwater?”

“I don’t know,” Natasha replies in the coldest, most bored voice she can manage. Clint doesn’t pick up on her fake enthusiasm, too lost in thought about whether or not fish have ears—which, now that he mentions it, Natasha realises she doesn’t know it either, but she’s sure as hell not admitting that—and agrees promptly when she says, “Why don’t we find out?”

“Okay, hold this for me,” Clint hands her his finishing pole, “and say something.”

He bends down and shoves his head underwater, looking like an incredibly confused, wingless pelican. Natasha waits in silence for a couple of seconds before she lifts her feet and not so gently pushes Clint into the water. For good measure, she holds him down with her boot as well, only letting him up when he tries to push her up.

When Clint reemerges, his face and clothes are covered in mud and he looks absolutely murderous. It’s a good look on him, Natasha decides.

She expects him to well at her, maybe throw a light temper tantrum. When clint doesn’t say anything, it should be warning enough that he’s about to do something very, very dumb. Natasha doesn’t realize this until it’s too late and Clint is shouting, “Mud fight!” before launching himself at her and dragging her into the water.

It’s a dirty fight, but they keep to the rules, shoving mud inside each other clothes’ but avoiding pulling hair or hitting more sensitive areas. It is, without a single doubt, some of the most fun Natasha’s had since she got this job. She still remembers the first couple of days, full of weird silences and not much to do. Now she’s throwing mud at someone she would dare call a friend—not while he could hear, of course—and she’s having fun.

The fact that she wins by a wide margin, sitting on top of Clint until he admits defeat, is a nice bonus.

Coulson completely ignores them the whole time, while Fury actually moves so far away she loses sight of him. By the time Thor and Bruce come to investigate the ruckus, she and Clint are already getting up and inspecting the damage.

Clint only has to glance at Natasha once before they’re both launching themselves at both men, dragging them in for a second round of the mud fight.

“Wait, wait, my glasses,” Bruce cries out. In one swift moves Natasha takes off his glasses and throws them into the grass, pushing Bruce into the water the next second before Thor tackles her.

“To battle!” Thor shouts, pulling Clint in as well until they’re all struggling to get away from each other so they can recuperate their footing.

“I ate some mud,” Bruce says. He gags a little and makes this little frown face that looks far cuter than it should on a grown man.

Clint takes Bruce’s admission as the perfect opportunity to throw more mud at Bruce’s face, but Bruce retaliates in kind, shoving dirt directly into Clint’s mouth while Clint is distracted picking some up. Natasha has to hand it to him, he uses some excellent tactics, distracting them before he strikes, unlike Thor, who is like an hurricane in the water, laughing and pushing people down wherever he goes.

Coulson continues to fully ignore them, despite Bruce’s earlier cries for help, and Fury, if he can still hear them, as most likely moved even further away.

When they finally return to their campsite, dirty, tired and absolutely starving, they’re all laughing and leaning into each other, and the only fish they’ve caught is the one Thor grabbed with his bare hands and shoved down Clint’s pants.

If you ask Natasha what she thinks of her job at the Parks and Recreation department she will look at you in the eye in complete silence for a couple of seconds before she lets out a small smile and says, “It’s good.”

 

\- - - - -

Tony stares in horror when Natasha, Clint, Thor and Bruce finally return from their fishing adventure because _what the hell_.

“Did you get hit by a tornado while you were out there? Seriously, what happened? Was it crocodiles? Because if so, let me just say I fucking told you so. Those waters—”

“It was a mud fight, Stark. No crocodiles,” Natasha says with a grin. She stops a couple of meters away from their currently unlit fire, where Tony’s been sitting at ever since the others abandoned him and he was left with nothing to do but drown in his own guilt and stare at the direction Steve had gone off to.

“And you participated in this? Willingly? Oh, my dearest Natasha, how the times have changed you,” Tony says, resting his chin on the back of his hands.

His words are a little too sharp, but his smile is genuine and he knows Natasha knows this from the way her smile softens.

“You know what I think you need, Tony?” she asks, voice sugary sweet, and doesn’t wait for him to say anything before she continues. “I think you need a hug. Don’t you guys think so too?”

“Oh, yes. Tony is definitely in desperate need for a big, old-fashioned group hug,” Clint adds, not missing a beat.

Tony’s reaction is immediate and completely based on his survival instincts. He backpedals out there as fast as his feet allow him, jumping to a standing position and bolting in the opposite direction before any of his sadistic coworkers can say anything else, much less take another step towards him.

And then something snaps inside of him, something that had been keeping him still until now, and Tony doesn’t stop running. He runs, and he runs, and he runs, all his pent up energy begging for release as he beats the ground with his feet, ducks underneath branches and jumps over shrubbery. Tony runs until he remembers that the last time he did real physical exercise was in high school, more than fifteen years ago, and feels his heart try to claw up his throat.

“Shit,” Tony wheezes, giving up on his attempt to outrun life and leaning against a tree as he tries to get back his breath. “Shit, that was not a good idea.”

It did make him feel a little bitter, so it was worth it. Probably. It was probably worth it.

“I need to think things more thoroughly,” Tony says to himself, remembering Pepper’s advice to think properly from the last time they’d spoken before he left and moved to Pawnee, some three years ago.

“Tony? Is that you?” Someone calls from somewhere to Tony’s right, before they step out from the tree they were hiding behind and reveal themselves to be Steve, who has most likely never been out of breath his whole life. Brilliant. “What happened? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine. Just felt like going for a little jog,” Tony says, laughing from the pain and trying to hide it by waving a casual hand in dismissal. Steve starts to walk towards him, and Tony has to gather his strengths and push himself up before Steve gets too close and does something stupid like carry Tony back to their tent site. “What about you? What’s up?”

“I was just…” Steve trails off, rubbing a hand against the back of his neck before he turns around and points at the horizon, “Admiring the sky.”

Tony looks up, a comment on not knowing Steve was into the whole long walks on the beach and looking at the sky shebang on the tip of his tongue before the words dry on spot. “Wow,” he says instead.

Pawnee is a small city in Indiana. It’s known for its large obese population and little else, although Tony would never admit that out loud in fear of getting a look of major disapproval from Steve. It’s also, apparently, home to one of the most beautiful sunsets in the world.

There’s still at least an hour until the sun goes down, but the sky is already a brilliant mix of vibrant reds and oranges. It looks like it’s on fire, alive and kicking. “It’s beautiful,” Tony says.

“It’s pollution from the Sweetums factory,” Steve says, sitting down on a rock near the edge of the hill they’re on, leaving Tony enough space to sit beside him, “It’s gorgeous, but is it worth the asthma?”

Like many times before, Tony finds himself asking how the hell he got to this crazy city. “No,” he says, but Steve isn’t really paying attention anymore, humming in reply while he continues to stare at the sky, lost in thought.

That’s no good, Tony thinks. Steve’s not the kind of guy who stares at the sky lost in thought. He’s the kind of guy who takes a picture of the sky, uses photoshop to put a motivational quote written by himself like ‘Everything is possible if you work hard enough!’ or ‘There’s twenty hours in each day you can use to work on your dreams!’ on top of the picture and then prints it out on high-quality paper and gives a copy to everyone he knows.

This thing with Reed has hit him harder than Tony imagined, which is no surprise considering the amount of work and time they’d spent on their little park, making sure they had all the right permits and public approval, and then, as they were about to start work, bam! Reed Richards comes in to ruin the day. Fucker.

“Hey, Steve, come on. Don’t be like that.”

“Be like what?” Steve asks, still looking at the sky.

“Be all contemplative and thoughtful.”

“I can’t be contemplative?” Steve asks with a laugh, blue eyes open wide to make him look as innocent as possible. Tony knows what he’s doing, but he still falls for it, still rushes in to explain himself because the thought of upsetting Steve is always difficult to digest. Damn, he’s so screwed.

“You can, but that’s not who you are,” Tony says, jumping off the rock so he can stand in front of Steve. “You’re the definition of enthusiasm and determination. Contemplation is for weaker people. You’re a man of action. You’re…”

Steve waits a second, smile as bright as ever, before he prompts. “I’m…?”

Tony’s not lost for words, that’s something that happens to other people, in fact he’s being submerged by too many possible words he can use. Amazing. Brilliant. Smart. Original. Brave. Strong. The best person I’ve ever known.

He doesn’t pick any of them in the end. “You’re Steve Rogers.”

It’s not the right thing to say. It makes Steve look away and frown when he says, “Well, what if Steve Rogers can’t do this? What then?”

Tony just shakes his head.

“You’re one of the most hard-working people I know. Actually, scratch that. You’re the most hard-working person I know. All we need is a cool project to show how amazing our department is and we’re game. It’s easy peasy, lemon squeezy.”

“Yeah, except for the part where we don’t have any money we can use,” Steve says, but he’s laughing, so it’s alright.

“Well, Bruce’s idea wasn’t so bad,” Tony says, sitting back on the rock next to Steve. It’s not the greatest idea ever, but it’s doable, especially if they get Natasha and Clint on the team. And it’s not like Reed needs a car anyway. He’s like a Daddy Long Legs, he can easily walk to work.

“We’re not stealing Reed’s car, Tony,” Steve says. As always he sounds exasperated, but fond. Tony thinks it’s a good sound on him.

“I know a place where we can get the plates changed to new ones. No questions asked.”

“You do?” Steve asks. He looks like he’s about to seriously consider the idea before he groans and says, “No, no. No stealing, no illegal activities.”

“Fine, Captain Buzzkill,” Tony bumps his shoulders against Steve to make sure Steve knows he’s joking, getting a small bump back.

He likes this, could settle for it. The easy camaraderie and the stolen glances, they’re enough, Tony doesn’t ask for more. He and Steve fit, even when they clash because Tony might love Steve’s determination, but even he needs a slap back into reality from time to time. However, it’s never anything permanent; they always return to being best friends in a matter of days, if not hours, and just this—just being friends—is enough. It is.

(Tony thinks he’ll start believing it if he says it over and over again. He doesn’t have much of a choice.)

“Tony,” Steve says, pulling Tony away from his thoughts. “I just wanted to say thank you, for everything. Ever since you’ve moved to Pawnee things have been better—my life has been better. Thank you.”

The way Tony blushes is downright embarrassing, but he’s far too distracted staring at Steve to notice his own reaction. “You’re welcome, I guess? My life has been better too, ever since I moved. The department is great and you,” Tony looks away, but doesn’t stop the next words from coming out, not this time, “you’re great.”

Steve doesn’t a reply, but he’s still a warm and solid weight glued to Tony’s side, so Tony figures he didn’t go too far. The moment of silence stretches around them. The sky, if possible, seems to burn brighter with each passing minute. It really is beautiful, not worth the asthma, but still.

And Tony, he’s a always been a stupid romantic at heart, so he can’t help thinking about how this is the perfect moment for a kiss. He would simply have to turn around, put a hand on the back of Steve’s neck and lean forward. Simple. Easy.

“We should get going, the others are probably wondering about us,” he says instead, breaking the spell that seems to have fallen on top of them.

He’s always been a stupid romantic, but it’s never done him any good.

Luckily for Tony, nobody’s warned Steve about the dangers of stupidly romantic acts.

“Tony,” he calls, taking one Tony’s hand in his so he can turn him around until they’re facing each other, practically nose to nose. The look of determination in Steve’s face is one Tony knows and loves. His lips are pressed into a thin line, his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes are a little sharper than usual. It’s the famous I’m-Steve-Rogers-and-I’m-going-to-do-this-regardless-of-consequences look.

Tony doesn’t even have time to panic before he’s being kissed.

It’s an awkward kiss at first, more of a mash of lips than anything else, with Tony standing as still as a rock in shock and Steve leaning in with too much momentum. The awkwardness lasts until Tony realizes that hello, Steve is kissing him. Kissing him. On the mouth. At sunset. If angels are real, there are probably a couple flying above them right now.

When the realization finally hits him in its full capacity, Tony melts into Steve’s arms, going pliant and willing without any hesitation. He opens his mouths and lets Steve push for more. His heart starts to beat too fast, a ticking time bomb in his chest, and Tony feels like he’s about to die, heart attack, lung failure, brain aneurysm—who cares of what. The point is that he feels like he’s about to die and all he can think is there’s no better way to go than this.

It’s wonderful feeling, so it’s a real shame that it only lasts until Steve takes a deep breath and pulls away with a heavy frown on his face.

“We shouldn’t,” he says, putting some space between them and breaking Tony’s heart into a million pieces faster than anyone else ever has. “We work in the same department. I’m your _boss_.”

Tony’s brain takes a little while to catch on—it’s a day of revelations, maybe he missed a memo—and when it finally does its job, a mad grin spreads across Tony’s face and he doesn’t hesitate to get close to Steve again.

“Okay, first of all, I’m pretty sure Fury is the boss, and you’re sort of in between,” Tony says, babbles really. There’s something in his chest threatening to burst out and he can’t contain it, this feeling of giddy excitement that’s almost overwhelming, “but if that’s your reason on why we shouldn’t get together I will go up to Fury right this second and quit,” at Steve’s look of outrage, Tony quickly changes his words, “Or transfer! Yeah, I’ll transfer! There’s plenty of departments I can transfer to, no problem.”

“Are you sure?” Steve asks, and Tony almost wants to laugh. He has Steve pressed against him, his mouth only a couple of inches away with the promise of them making out—and dating? Steve doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who makes out without dating—in the future. If he’s sure of one thing in his life, is that he wants this, even if the possibility that Steve might have suffered some kind of head trauma and is currently delusional hangs in the air.

“I’m sure. I’m definitely, one hundred percent sure,” and if he sounds too enthusiastic, Steve doesn’t complain, going back to kissing as soon as the words leave Tony’s mouth.

Steve presses Tony against the rock they’d been sat on before, standing between Tony’s legs and taking control of the kiss as easily as one breathes. Tony lets him. Steve’s a pusher and Tony likes that about him and honestly, right now, Steve could suggest they go jump off a bridge and all Tony would ask is, “which one?”

That’s probably not healthy, but if Steve wants to jump off a bridge, he must have some decent reasons for doing so, and Tony trusts him, he has from the very beginning.

They kiss until the sun starts coming down for good and Steve pulls away again, this time more slowly, going back for another small kiss every time he tries to back away until he finally takes a step back for good.

“The others are probably wondering about us, and we should get back before it gets dark.”

“Don’t worry,” Tony says, jumping off the rock, “I’ve already got a story ready about how you fell off the hill—”

“Oh, _I_ fell off the hill? Really?” Steve interrupts as they fall into step by each other’s side.

Tony pretends he didn’t hear him. “And I came to your rescue as your knight in shiny armor—”

“You don’t even know basic CPR!”

“Steve, please. Artistic liberties,” Tony says. He’d worry about the grin threatening to split his face in two if Steve didn’t have a matching one.

“Artistic liberties my ass. How about we found an injured dog and we nursed it back to help?”

Tony pretends to think Steve’s idea through. “What about a bear cub instead? Makes it sound more exciting.”

“Natasha would never buy it.”

“But Clint totally would. Speaking of Clint, can we wait to tell them until I’ve transferred? I need to come up with some more blackmail to avoid the teasing.”

“Sure, Tony. Whatever you want.”

As they enter their campsite, Tony realizes that he should have freaked out by this point. Not a huge freakout, he’s not that out of touch, a small one where he ran off somewhere on his own so he could call Rhodey or Pepper and yell at them until they told him to shut up and get his act together. Just a couple of hours ago he was settling with the idea of a lifetime of being nothing more than Steve’s friend, and now they’re kissing in the woods and Tony’s going to transfer departments so they can be together and it’s all very proper, very real, very scary freakout material.

However, nothing’s happening, because Steve is still right there, right by his side, sneaking glances at Tony whenever he thinks Tony isn’t watching, and freaking out is the last thing to do on Tony’s current plans. Maybe he’ll do it tomorrow, after they get back to the real world, or maybe he’ll do it in a week, after he’s transferred. Or maybe he’ll never do it because he’s finally grown up and become a proper adult who doesn’t freak out about being in a romantic relationship with someone.

Jee and it only took him thirty-three years.

Dinner is surprisingly pleasant. They eat the fish the group had caught earlier, which roughly translates into the fish Fury caught and the one Thor put in Clint’s pants—Coulson turning out to be a lazy fisherman. Steve sits next to Tony and the others don’t blink an eye. When Steve asks if anyone’s come up with any project ideas, he’s met with numerous blank glances, but he doesn’t seem to be too bothered by this.

Tony likes to think it’s because of him.

After dinner it’s time to share horror stories, normally a time favored and adored by Tony, who pays no mind to the stories told, eyes caught in the sketch Steve draws on his notebook the whole time. He does hear Bruce and Clint scream like little boys who have yet to go through adolescence, and Thor laugh manly after each story as if it’s all beneath him, so it’s fine. Those are always the best parts.

Before they each go to their own tents, Steve squeezes Tony’s hand, just once, as a replacement for a kiss they can’t share yet. Tony wishes it was that act that made up his mind on his decision to wait until everyone’s asleep to pick up his sleeping bag and pillow and go join Steve in his tent, but in reality he’d made that decision the second he realized he would have to go to sleep alone while Steve was only a couple of feet away from him. It seemed unfair that they’d have to sleep alone in the bloody woods, of all places, when they could sleep together.

“Tony?” Steve asks in the darkness, eyeing Tony’s shape with caution as Tony dumps his things on the tent’s floor and zips the plastic flap behind them shut.

“The one and only,” he replies, lighting the small space with his cell phone’s bright screen. It’s barely enough to light the the tent, but it’s enough to see a small smile spread across Steve’s lips. And then, because he’s Tony, and a small smile isn’t enough to put his mind to rest, he has to ask, “This is okay, right? Because if you want I can leave, I don’t want to presume anything. I just—“

Steve grabs Tony’s hand and pulls him in for a kiss for the second time that day. This time Tony falls onto Steve’s lap, and it’s even more stupidly romantic than their first kiss. “Presume away,” Steve murmurs against Tony’s lips.

Tony feels himself grin in reply, but he doesn’t say anything, just gets as close as possible to Steve with clothes still between them. Steve shouldn’t have said that, he really, really shouldn’t have because there are many things Tony wants to presume, and his self-control has always been a little blotchy, to say the least. Giving him blanket permission is just asking for trouble, is just asking for him to grab Steve’s hips and grind down on him, is just asking for—

“Wait, wait, we can’t,” Steve says, interrupting their promising activities, and once again breaking Tony’s heart a little—well, more like giving him blue balls—before he explains himself. “The others are right there, Tony.”

Tony takes a look around, suddenly remembering where they are. “Oops?” he tries, “I can be quiet if you can.”

“All we’ve got some air and plastic between us and Fury. You still want to try this?”

Tony thinks about Fury’s stink face the next morning and he grins to himself. Then he thinks some more about Fury’s stink face and he backs away from Steve like he’s been burned, putting as much space between them as possible in the little tent.

“You make a very valid point. Just sleeping then?”

“Just sleeping,” Steve replies and the next kiss they share is perfectly innocent, a simple peck of lips to remind each other that they’re both still there, both still want this, and they simply can’t do anything right now because their crazy, ninja boss and his crazy ninja minion—minions? Clint and Natasha’s status is still unclear—are only a couple of meters away from them.

While Tony opens their sleeping bags so they can use as blankets, Steve pulls open a flap on the roof of the tent so that they get a little starlight.

If it’s possible, lying there next to Steve with Steve’s arm around his shoulder, his head pillowed by Steve’s chest, bathed by the natural, incredibly polluted light of Pawnee’s sky, is even more stupidly romantic than anything they’ve yet done. Tony wonders if this is what dating Steve is like. A string of stupidly romantic events following each other.

He could definitely get used to it.

“How long?” Steve asks, voice barely above a whisper. Tony groans, already knowing where this is headed.

“Really?”

“You don’t need to answer if you don’t want to.”

Tony shakes his head. Of course he doesn’t need to, but if there was any perfect moment to talk about his feelings—Tony mentally gags—it’s now. “Since the beginning I think. You know how I felt about moving here, and I kind of disliked you at first because you were so,” Tony waves a hand in the air to illustrate his amazingly well-put point, “but then you kept taking me out to places just so I could see the city and feel less alone. It was hard to dislike you after you bought me waffles everyday for a month.”

Steve laughs and squeezes Tony a little tighter. He doesn’t need Tony to ask before he says, “Me it was during the Indoors Ice Rink Fiasco,” Tony makes a dying sound, which Steve ignores. “You’d just gotten here and you were trying _so_ hard to make this crazy idea work, just because you’d heard me talking about how cool it’d be to have an ice rink for the kids.”

“I wanted to make it up to you for all you’d done for me. Also, theoretically, it was an amazing idea and I really thought it’d make us look good.”

“It did make us look amazing,” at Tony’s huff of disbelief, Steve emends, “in the eyes of the kids. It made us look amazing in the eyes of the kids.”

“It also flooded the city hall and stopped work for two weeks.”

Steve just waves him off. “Details.”

Tony doesn’t say anything else and Steve doesn’t push the topic.

Tony is about to fall asleep when he hears Steve say, quietly, “The stars look pretty tonight,” before he bolts upright and shakes Tony awake, “The stars! It’s the stars!”

“What?”

“Our next project!”

Tony, who is a little sleep ladden, is slow on the uptake, “Our next project is… the stars?”

Steve rolls his eyes and shakes him a bit more for good measure. “The old planetarium. We’ll renovate it, paint the walls, get a new telescope. You and Bruce like space, so you can present a couple of shows until we get enough money to hire someone to do it full-time. It will be educative and fun for the whole-family, we can get all the local schools to visit. We can even do late night shows for the space fanatics. There are space fanatics, right?”

“Yeah?” Tony half says, half asks. It feels like the right thing to say.

“Perfect. It will be perfect,” Steve finishes, grinning from ear to ear.

After about five seconds of empty staring, Tony manages to register what has just happened and is able to produce an appropriate reply. “Awesome! See, I told you you’d get it. Hey, does that mean—”

“Will you two idiots shut the fuck up and let the rest of us sleep!” someone—probably Bruce—shouts.

Tony cringes, but Steve’s smile doesn’t even waver. Alright, Tony can worry about the teasing later.

“I was going to suggest we go back to the real world,” Tony continues, this time in a whisper, “but I don’t think the others would be very amicable to that suggestion.”

“Tomorrow,” Steve says, kissing him. “Let me just write everything down before I forget.”

Tony lies back, throwing an arm beneath his head and feeling perfectly content with just lying there and watching Steve rummage around the tent for his notebook.

He ends up falling asleep like that, the sound of Steve’s writing lulling him into quiet sleep. The next time he wakes up the sun is about to come up, heavy orange on the horizon turning the sky light blue above them. He’s got a heavy Steve Rogers wrapped around him like an octopus, and no desire whatsoever to even pretend he didn’t spend the night with Steve by going back to his cold tent.

Let the others tease. Tony’s got blackmail on all of them.


End file.
